a little more okay
by LaughingSenselessly
Summary: For Makorra week 2k15 prompt "Healing". Post-series: Korra had had her fair share of relationships, and she knew Mako had too, but nothing had felt quite right, and for a while she'd thought maybe she was broken from everything she had endured. But another part of her wondered...


Korra loved sparring with Mako. Particularly when he landed on the mat, just like he had right now, for the fifth time that day.

"This is getting tiring," he grumbled, making a show of rubbing his back while Korra laughed. She knew he didn't really mind, from the way his amber eyes sparkled with a playfulness that she knew very few people saw.

"I'm hardly breaking a sweat," she said, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, throwing a few experimental jabs into the air. "Ready to go again?"

He climbed to his feet, assuming fighting stance. Rolled his shoulders. Beckoned at her with a mocking hand.

She practically flew at him, spitting fire. He evaded, slamming her to the ground, and asked breathlessly, "So, what happened to get you in such a tizzy anyway?"

She shrugged.

Half an hour ago, she'd stormed into the gym with frustration running in an undercurrent beneath her skin, tired and snappish from dealing with the new President (even worse than Raiko, frankly, a feat that she hadn't thought possible) and his terrible policies on bending he was trying to get into law.

She'd walked into that gym sorely itching for a fight, a real fight, not with a punching bag but with something that would hit back so she'd have a reason to be angry.

Mako had looked up from his own punching bag and instantly read her emotions. He was good with her like that; after years of knowing her he could instantly gauge her mood. This wasn't the first time she'd run to him looking for a tumble.

Of the fighting sort, she meant… not that they hadn't tumbled in _that_ way before… many times... in various positions…

But that was all in the past, several years behind them. And yet, she'd be lying if she said right this instant, when he had her pinned on the ground, panting for her to yield, lines of his taut shoulders strained and hair slick with sweat, that she didn't feel the attraction.

"Yield," he repeated, and his hot breath swept across her collarbone. She snarled at him. "No." She kicked one of his knees out, leaving him sprawling on the ground, and brought a wall of fire down on him.

He rolled quickly out of the way, retaliating with a well placed cross of flame to her side, which she swatted away.

"You gonna answer the question?" Mako asked while ducking away from her front kick to strike her side. She tried to leap away but his statement had distracted her, and he grinned as he made contact. "Point."

She snarled at him. "I'll give you a _point_." And with that she fully unleashed all her pent-up fury on him, a tornado of kicks and punches and fire that Mako had no choice but to back away from.

To be fair, he dodged most of it, which was impressive in and of itself, but when Korra was really angry he didn't really stand a chance against her. Her last punch left him reeling, and her jumping side kick sent him against the wall with a thud before he slid down.

"Hnggh," he muttered, making a pained sound, but before Korra could begin to feel bad about it, he stood back up. Asides from the fact that he was a skilled bender who put up an interesting fight, this was one of the main reasons she loved sparring with him. The man could _take_ a punch. She didn't have to hold back much.

Having expended some of her extra energy, she resumed sparring in a more collected way. "It's the president," she said by way of explanation. "Trying to restrict bending in public or something. Thinks it's 'unsafe' or something." She scoffed. "Have you ever heard anything more ridiculous?"

Mako's lips drew into a tight, thin line for a moment as he jabbed. "He might have a point."

"Really? You're taking his side?" Korra complained. "You're a _bender_!"

"Bending can be dangerous. I'm just saying it's worth a discussion. And besides, I thought we got past this 'taking sides' thing a long time ago."

She paused a little, feeling guilty with the echoes of the impassioned arguments of youth echoing in her ears.

Looking at the ground, she heard him stirring around, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. "Sorry. I was joking."

She glanced up to see his nervous, lopsided smile, and offered him a half-hearted smile. He tried, really he did. And so did she. But the fact remained that they'd never talked properly about… that. They'd never really closed the door on their relationship, so to speak. Korra had had her fair share of relationships since then, and she knew Mako had too, but none had gotten incredibly serious, nothing had _felt_ right, and for a while she'd thought maybe she was broken from everything she had endured. But another part of her wondered if there was something else to do with it...

 _I'll always love you, Korra._

 _And I'll always love you._

"Anyway," she said loudly, shaking herself out of it. "Let's take a break."

He eyed her with mild surprise. "I thought you weren't tired."

She stepped away from the mats, heading over to the shelf to grab a towel to sling across her own sweat-soaked shoulders. "Well, _you_ are. I figured you need a break, old man." She grinned teasingly, and just like that, the tension broke.

Shaking his head with a rueful grin, he followed her over, and damn was it a sight to watch. She was only half-aware of her own eyes following the muscles of his arm flex and stretch as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

His thin white undershirt stuck to his torso in the most enticing of ways, and she had the sudden urge to run her hands through his messy, spiky hair. She was all for the professional look he sported these days, but there was an undeniable sexiness to his tousled head.

It was only because she was looking at him so closely that she noticed his bright eyes close briefly in pain as he twisted to grab a towel as well.

"You're hurt?" she asked in surprise, reaching forward automatically.

He batted her hands away. "I haven't sparred properly in a while. Don't worry about it, I probably just stretched a muscle."

"Police work is making you soft, huh," Korra teased. He smiled in return, but it looked slightly pained.

She frowned and reached for his shirt. "Just let me see."

"No."

Undeterred, she peeled his shirt away from his skin, and finally noticed the rip in the cloth. Heart in her throat, she ripped the cloth apart in her hands, ignoring his complaint ("Oh c'mon, Korra-!" "Relax, I know you own like ten identical ones.").

There was an ugly looking burn on his side.

"Oh, no," she breathed. "I'm so sorry!"

Mako looked down and looked just as surprised as her. "I didn't even notice."

Korra picked up her water bottle and unscrewed the lid. "I'm healing it."

"That's really not necessary," he said firmly. She rolled her eyes. He had always had something against being healed for some reason. It had been hard enough getting him to see a healer for his severely burned arm a few years back. She had the feeling he saw it as cheating. He wanted to own who he was, and get where he was, through his own blood, sweat and tears. She knew he saw his own heavily scarred arm as a reminder of who he was.

She admired it. Really, she did.

But there was nothing significant about a stupid burn on his stomach from a sparring match, so _screw_ his philosophy.

He tried to get up, but Korra put a firm hand on his shoulder. "Sit down," she said in that no-nonsense tone she'd learned from Pema, and he finally complied with a huff.

She bended the water out, and his tired eyes watched as it encased her hands in a soft glow and pressed against his side. When it made contact, he let out a small, quiet sigh and seemed to relax muscles she hadn't even known had been tensed.

"Not so bad being healed, is it?" she snarked.

"Shut up," he said fondly, contented into complacency for the time being by the cooling sensation of the healing water. "You know why I don't like it." She was startled for a moment that he was actually aware that she did. But then again, they'd always had an understanding when it came to these matters that couldn't be spoken aloud. "Bolin was always telling me to go to the healer, too. He doesn't get it."

"Doesn't get what? Your enjoyment of pain?" Korra said with a smirk.

Mako adopted an exaggeratedly high-pitched tone. "Why do always have to take _his_ side?"

Korra couldn't help it- she giggled, losing her concentration for a brief moment. The water splashed onto the floor.

She glanced down at the burn. It was almost fine now, just a little red and inflamed.

He was already shifting away from her touch. "It's fine now, just leave it-"

She leaned down anyway to bend the water back to her fingertips, while he leaned forward to push her hand away, protesting, "Don't-"

Their noses bumped awkwardly.

They parted just as quickly, Mako practically leaping away as if he'd been burned again. Korra, for her part, thought her face might be as red as the inflammation on his side.

"Uh- I- that-" she stuttered. And fell silent.

He swallowed, stance wide.

Neither of them had been prepared for their own close proximity; Mako was staring at her like he'd never seen her before, and she was suddenly aware that no one had said anything for a good ten seconds.

He licked his lips, and she couldn't help but watch the way his tongue darted out to wet them. And was it just her, or were his eyes darkening with… Well, she knew he was attracted to her, always had been, but he was _usually_ better at hiding it… Come to think of it, so was she…

And then he seemed to come to his senses, blinking rapidly and clearing his throat. "I- uh-" he stammered, rubbing the back of his head with one large hand. He fell silent.

It was so ridiculous, the two of them tripping over their words and staring, that Korra couldn't help it. She giggled, and his face broke out into a grin, and just like that, they fell back into the easy friendship that they had established years ago.

"Wanna come over?" he asked suddenly. "For dinner, I mean. With Bolin," he added quickly when Korra's eyebrows raised. "He's in Republic City tonight. We can all catch up. If you're not, uh, busy."

"Sounds great," Korra said happily. She hadn't seen Bolin in ages, and her work as the Avatar made it difficult to see Mako unless she was in town and crossed his path while he was on duty. "I gotta hit the showers first, though. I stink." She grinned at him, and he laughed while shaking his head, mumbling something that sounded like "smell amazing" or some other blatant lie like that.

He was so dumb, she thought affectionately. But that didn't stop her heart from skipping a beat.

* * *

It quickly became apparent that Bolin was not coming in for dinner. They'd waited. Sometime around nine he'd called Mako's apartment, sheepishly explaining that he'd ran into Opal and would not, likely, be getting in tonight. Mako seemingly couldn't help but make a few snide remarks and Korra made loud kissing noises in the background until Bolin hung up.

And after that, Mako cooked up some of his fantastic noodles and they ate together, catching up and laughing and not talking about anything heavy, just being friends and Korra loved that.

It was past eleven and the conversation had lulled; Mako sitting in one of his wooden chairs with his socked feet up on the coffee table, reading the newspaper, and Korra sprawled across his ratty (but comfy) couch idly bending the wine in her glass.

She glanced at the clock again; she knew it was way past time to leave but she was just feeling so content and lazy and she really didn't want that feeling to go away. It wasn't really that often that she got to feel like this. Like just a girl who hung out with her friends and hadn't a care in the world.

As soon as she stepped out of Mako's cozy apartment the illusion would end and she'd be thrust back into her own reality, and right now she just wasn't up for that.

"Korra." Mako said, his face hidden from behind the newspaper.

"Hmm?" Korra mumbled.

He hesitated. She could feel it, even though she couldn't see him. "You could stay here tonight, you know." She even heard him swallow. "If you want."

She sighed, not in the mood to bullshit about how she should probably go. "Could I?" And damn if her voice wasn't far more wistful than she would have liked.

He finally lowered the newspaper and didn't speak until Korra turned her head towards him. Amber eyes somber, he said softly, "Always."

 _Always_.

The word seemed to reverberate around the room, calling up memories of things past said that- surprise- Korra didn't want to think about.

"Okay," Korra said, her voice equally quiet. And then that thing happened again, where she stared at him for an inordinately long period of time and he stared right back at her and like always he had to go and break it, getting up, putting his newspaper down and muttering something about changing the sheets before making a hasty exit down the hall.

She half-wished he would make a move sometimes. She knew why he did it. But still.

* * *

She was dreaming and it was terrible.

A jumble of twisted thoughts and nightmares; of being suffocated, of being helpless, of her friends dying in front of her while she did nothing. Of her in an out of control Avatar State and killing all the people she'd ever cared about. It was the worst kind of nightmare.

And it was a nightly ritual.

She must have cried out at some point because she gradually came to with strong arms wrapped around her. "Shh, shh you're okay," a murmur permeated her terrified, dreamy haze.

She was suddenly aware of her own ragged breathing, her eyes opening to dart around the room, cataloguing the photos on the walls, the moonlight streaming through the window, the twisted sheets around her ankles. And Mako, nestled against her side, wrapping her in a warm cocoon. "It's just a dream. You're okay." It sounded like a question.

She made a strangled sound, one that was supposed to say "I'm fine" but failed miserably. In answer he stroked her sweaty hair out of her face with one of his large hands and rocked her, slowly, like a baby.

She swallowed. It was dark and she could barely see his face. Something about that gave ehr the feeling of anonymity. That was the only reason she could think of later, the only thing that made her open up.

"You'd think I would have gotten over it by now," she said, attempting and failing to make a joke out of it.

He stilled for a moment. "It's been years since you endured some of the most unthinkable things that anyone could go through," he corrected gently. "No one ever expected you to just 'get over that'."

And she was reminded suddenly that he had watched his parents get burned alive when he was only eight years old.

"Did you?"

He paused, knowing exactly what she was talking about. "I won't pretend like I've been through anything like you have." She knew he was downplaying it. "All I know for certain is no one can just walk away from that kind of thing."

She clutched tightly onto his undershirt, burying her face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like firewood. "It's been years. I should have," she mumbled. "I'm the Avatar."

"You're Korra to me," he said gently. She half-laughed, half-sobbed into his shoulder. "And Korra is the strongest, bravest person I've ever met. You went through terrible things and came out the other side. And if _that_ isn't strength, if surviving after that isn't bravery... then I don't know _what_ is." He leaned down and kissed her forehead softly, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

She just wanted to be okay again. She just wanted to feel right again. She wanted to sleep without nightmares. She wanted to stop being haunted by the person she had been.

"I'm tired," she whispered.

His arms tightened around her. She knew it killed him, this faithful friend of hers, who loved her in every way. To know he couldn't fix her. No one could. "Okay."

And then she lay down back into the pillows. He didn't leave back to the couch he'd been sleeping on; instead, he lay down next to her and tucked her into his chest.

She was glad.

* * *

She woke up the next morning to the smell of something delicious being fried in the kitchen. She grinned into the pillow.

She wandered into the kitchen, wearing her crumpled clothes from the night before. She looked a mess, she thought, but when Mako turned from the stove and saw her standing there, the look in his eyes might have made her believe she was a goddess.

Despite herself, a small smile spread across her face as well. "Why are you always up at the buttcrack of dawn? This is obscene."

He turned back to his pan. "It's eleven in the morning."

"Like I said." Korra snickered, flopping into one of the chairs. On cue, Mako set a plate of omelet in front of her. Her stomach growled.

She turned red and he chuckled, eyebrow raised. And he turned around and made her another, and by the time he was done the other was already obliterated, so he had to make another for himself. He teased her. She mouthed off.

And she loved it. She loved all of this, being fed by her own personal chef and best friend, sitting in a chair at a dining table like there was nothing wrong in the world. Last night felt like it had never even happened.

He didn't say anything about it, but after sitting next to her with his own plate he raised his eyebrow and said "Okay?" and they both knew what he was talking about and Korra nodded real fast and said deliberately, "but the omelet could use work."

He laughed, skin around his eyes crinkling. She liked that. "I'll be sure to make a note on the recipe." He pretended to hold a pen in his hand. "'Korra says this recipe sucks. Strangely, she ate several, but I don't pretend to understand the techniques of food critics.'"

Korra giggled, absurdly happy. He watched her, a fond look in his eyes, and then, without warning, reached forward with one hand to gently swipe his thumb along her lower lip.

She held her breath for one long second, the weight of his thumb resting on her lips, before he finally, slowly, agonizingly pulled away. Her lips tingled.

She swallowed, throat suddenly feeling dry. "Was… was there something on my face?"

A beat.

"No." He looked unapologetic, and his voice a low timber. And there his eyes went, darkening again into something that made her shiver. "Korra."

"Yeah?" she asked, trying to sound confident.

"Can I kiss you?" And the question was so unexpected, so innocently asked but in that _voice_ , that she blinked rapidly out of surprise. The trace of a nod she gave was subconsciously given, and the action just barely done when he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

Despite their attraction, the kiss was anything but frenzied. After the initial hesitation, it was slow and long and languid and it felt like coming home. She fisted her hands into his hair, and his hands went tentatively to her cheeks, holding her face with reverence she didn't deserve. Korra tasted salt in her mouth and she pulled away and so did he, and she saw his eyes were wet but he was touching _her_ cheek and saying in an awed tone, "You're crying," and she half-laughed half-sobbed because of _course_ she was crying, because after years and years of feeling so wrong she suddenly and unexpectedly felt sort of _right_.

"Thanks for the tip, detective," she said, and he wiped away her tears with his thumbs.

"You okay?" he asked, worriedly.

"Yeah," she said, and she was surprised that it was truth. She leaned her forehead against his and whispered, "Yeah, I'm okay."

He couldn't fix her or heal her wounds, not like how she could do for him.

But maybe he could make it a little more okay.

* * *

 **A/N: Reviews will make me love you forever okay I love reviews!~ please drop a note!**


End file.
